


Acoustics

by Plus1STR



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Cartinelli - Freeform, F/F, Femslash, Modern AU, One Shot, short one short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:17:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3690204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plus1STR/pseuds/Plus1STR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angie's neighbour has a habit of singing in the shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acoustics

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Português brasileiro available: [Acústica](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5171888) by [Rosetta (Melime)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melime/pseuds/Rosetta)



            Angie was not a morning person. Even as a little girl, waking her up was like waking the dead. She’d huff and puff and lazily drag herself around, effectively making her late to whatever it was she had to do in the morning. There was nothing wonderful about the daylight hours. Not until her new neighbour moved in.

            She had never officially met the woman— only caught glimpses of her rushing by in the hallways— but Angie had become the sole audience member to the woman’s concerts held nearly every morning in her bathroom. Not Angie’s bathroom of course, that’d just be highly inappropriate as strangers; not that Angie had thought about sharing a bathroom with her elusive neighbour or anything of the sort. The point being, Angie’s neighbour functioned like clockwork; she was up every morning at six o’clock sharp and her shower would typically start up thirty minutes later. And with those showers came the singing.

            The first time it happened, Angie thought she was imagining things. After a weekend of celebrating her first big role with Carol and Gloria, Angie woke up in her bathtub to the loveliest of voices. And that lovely voice had been singing a collection of Britney Spears songs circa 1998; loudly and an octave lower if Angie were to critique it. Angie had half the mind to march over to her neighbor’s door and call her out, but that could have been the excess liquor still pumping in her system.

            That’s how their unknowingly shared morning routines went. As soon as Angie heard the singing emanating through her bathroom wall, she knew she had to be up and dressed with the next hour or else she’d be late to work. Really she should thank the woman for regulating her schedule for her but how would she have gone about that? “Hey, we don’t know each other, but I can totally hear you singings 90’s pop songs in the shower every morning and it makes me get out of bed, so thank you.” That sounded creepy at best.

            Angie was certain she’d never get to formally introduce herself to her neighbour; their conflicting schedules kept the two resigned to head nods and polite, shy smiles. That is, until Angie started to sing along during the one of the shower-head performances.

            By some miraculous, rare stroke of luck, Angie woke up before her first alarm went off; before cute neighbour girl had the chance to hop in the shower. By the time her neighbour found her way into the shower, Angie already blew through half of her morning routine and stood at her sink, applying her makeup. Once she could hear the water rushing just beyond the shared wall, she knew the singing was due any minute.

            “So tell me whatcha want, whatcha really, really want…” the voice seeped its way through the wall, carrying on with the lyrics wholeheartedly.

            Angie set her mascara brush down, unable to steady her hand while biting back laughter.

            “Taking is too easy, but that’s the way it is,” she sang back. She almost immediately came to regret that decision when the water next door shut off abruptly; that couldn’t have been a good sign.

            A moment later, there was an impatient knock at Angie’s apartment door. The last thing Angie had expected to see was her neighbour wrapped up in a towel— dripping water she might add.

            “Uhm, good morning,” she started awkwardly. “I do hope I’m not disturbing you. I’m your neighbour. Peggy.” She attempted to extend her hand, but quickly drew back to keep her loose towel in place. Her lips twisted into a frown when Miss Fry’s voice came booming from down the hall.

            “Miss Carter, need I remind you of the Griffith house rules on the subject of proper attire?”

            “Of course not, Miss Fry. My extremities are covered.”

            Peggy raised a challenging brow; she and Fry never quite got along. The only reason the older woman had even let allowed Peggy to move in was due to her credentials and flashy badge that made Fry nervous. The last thing Fry wanted was her building swarmed with federal agents, so the two came to an unspoken agreement; stay out of the other’s way.

            “In the future, do try not to track puddles of water through my halls.”

            “Certainly.” Once Fry trailed down the stairwell, Peggy turned back to Angie who watched on entirely too amused for her own good. “Anyway, I was wondering if you might not mention my singing habits. I’ve a—”

            And Angie interrupted her with full blown, tear inducing laughter. She didn’t mean to, truly she didn’t, but the sound fell freely from her lips and it earned her a stern glare from Peggy.

            “Might I ask what it is you find so amusing?”

            “I-I’m sorry,” Angie stuttered between laughs. “It’s just, it’s just you’re English,” she snorted, wiping a tear from her eye. “And you were singing the Spice Girls.” Angie cackled again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

            Peggy watched Angie slowly regain her composure and quirked an eyebrow.

            “It wakes me up.” Angie shook her head frantically before Peggy had the chance to apologize. “No, no! It keeps me on time for work. It’s great. Lovely even. An octave lower for the songs, but still pretty. Probably weird that I sang along. I don’t normally creep out my neighbours like that. I mean it happens sometimes, but I don’t… I am just really digging a hole here.”

            “Are you always this dramatic?”

            “’Fraid so, English.”

            Peggy smiled softly. “As I was saying, Miss—?”

            “Martinelli.” Angie stuck out a hand before recalling Peggy’s state of undress. “Right, sorry.”

            “Miss Martinelli—”

            “Angie.”

            “ _Angie_ , I’ve a bit of a reputation to uphold, so if you would be so kind as to not mention my morning singing routine, I’d greatly appreciate it. Also, I’m quite fond of coffee and I’m free this Friday.”

            Before Angie could even register what happened, Peggy was ducking back into her own apartment, leaving nothing but a trail of water to remember her by.


End file.
